


Three Months Gone

by mautadite



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-01-29 23:49:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21418723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mautadite/pseuds/mautadite
Summary: “Please. It’s our last night.”
Relationships: Queen/Head of the Royal Guard
Comments: 8
Kudos: 75
Collections: Femslash Exchange 2019





	Three Months Gone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mytha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mytha/gifts).

The staff at the inn all but trip over themselves to make them welcome. Alice feels vaguely apologetic; she notices a couple being harangued and bustled out of a room before she’s ushered into it shortly thereafter. Homely as it is, it is apparently the inn’s best room, and the little woman who greeted Alice at the door seems the sort who would cut off her own toe before she would offer her queen anything other than the best. Alice memorises the faces of the evicted couple, and makes a note to have Joanne compensate them.

It’s the last thing she thinks before tossing her crown onto the dresser and falling into bed.

Three months; three months of bad roads in the carriage, bumping and jostling along and feeling every ache in her aging limbs. Three months of long meetings with stubborn dukes and haughty ladies and snivelling knights; men and women who were all secretly insulted that the king hadn’t made the journey to see them himself, but who were determined to make the most of the opportunity to hang on her ear anyway. Three months of stooping to pee in the woods when they were too far out from the nearest hearth; three months with the overhanging threat of robbers on the road; three months of stress and sickness.

Three months with Joanne.

And now, they’re almost back home. This will be their last night on the road, their last stop before the towers of Mardica castle come into view on the horizon, before she can see the place she’s called home for the last twenty years. Part of her aches for the familiarity of the castle, for regular baths and comfortable beds, for the lords and ladies that she can call friends with some sense of assurance. Another part of her mourns.

It had been Erik’s idea, her kingdom-wide excursion. After all the civil unrest that had almost lost him his throne, they needed to do _something_ to win back the confidence of their people. Oh, the smallfolk were never a problem; Erik’s people loved what they remembered of him from his youth; the handsome young king who had ridden valiantly into battle against the Nains, securing victory and a bride in one fell swoop. It was the nobility with whom he had lost faith, and his clever solution had been to send Alice to meet with them, humble herself in his stead, assure them that the Crydons still held fast to the reigns of the kingdom. 

She had done it, to keep the peace, but mostly, she had done it for the three months. Three months with Joanne.

She’s half asleep when her knight slips into the room an hour or so later. Alice had insisted that she travel with the lightest retinue possible; the Head of the Royal Guard, a few of its strongest warriors, two advisors, some servants, and no maids. Erik had guffawed when she said that Joanne would help her with anything she couldn’t manage herself in her daily toilet, but had acquiesced with a wave of the hand.

Alice peels open her eyes, smiling at her lover. She holds out a hand, which Joanne grasps and kisses absently as she sits beside the bed. Her red hair is riotous as usual, a mass about her head that gives her that girlish charm.

“Everyone is all settled in,” she reports. “Most of the boys will have to stay in the stables, but they’re used to worse. The cook says she can rustle us up a late supper whenever you’d like…”

“Nothing for me,” Alice says drowsily, enjoying the feel of her hand in Joanne’s calloused one. “Make sure the men eat. Lord Allen will surely see to himself. But I can’t take anything right now. Too tired.”

Joanne’s brows draw in. “Are you sure?”

“Quite.”

“You need to eat, Alice,” she presses, still frowning. Alice smiles; not at the request, but at her name in Joanne’s mouth. She’s so careful all the time; nothing but Your Highnesses and Your Graces and My Ladys. But as soon as they’re alone, she relaxes, like slipping into a well-worn nightgown or a childhood bed, and it is only Alice.

“I will take breakfast in the morning,” she assures her. “Did you see the couple that got hurried from this room?” She doesn’t try to hide the fact that she’s changing the subject. Joanne purses her lips, but smiles anyway.

“I did. The gentleman was quite irate, but I slipped his wife a few coins.”

Alice squeezes her hand, smiling.

“Thank you. I should have known you’d have it well in hand.”

“It is my job, is it not, to anticipate your wants,” Joanne says wryly. Alice makes a show of perking up, straightening and perching on her elbows. Joanne laughs this time, a beautiful, full-bodied sound. “No, not those wants, Alice. Not now. I still have more to do before we settle in for the night.”

Alice groans, pulling her knight towards her.

“Get Fergus to do it, Joanne. You made him your second for a reason.”

Exasperation pulls at Joanne’s mouth. “I can’t…”

“Please. It’s our last night.”

She says it quietly, and there are hundreds of words behind it that she doesn’t say. They’ve had so much, on this trip. Nights in castles with adjoining rooms; nights at inns where Joanne would drag her cot up to ostensibly sleep on Alice’s floor, as befit her duty; evenings at rushing springs, bathing and laughing like children as they batted water at each other and the rest of the guards kept watch beyond the trees. Long kisses and sweet love, keeping each other up past what was wise so they could relish each other’s bodies. Everything they cannot have so easily at home.

Joanne’s face softens.

“I know, Alice.”

Alice smiles, and would protest when Joanne rises to walk to the door, but it’s only to speak to someone standing outside, before returning. She watches as her lover removes her armour, removes her boots, puts her sword at the side of the bed, and then slips in beside her. Her arm curls around Alice’s waist, where it belongs, and her hips push up against Alice’s bottom. 

“Fifteen years,” she murmurs into Alice’s neck. “Fifteen years, and still, I can deny you naught.”

Alice smiles, clasps the hand that holds her. It’s thick, warm from her recently doffed gloves, and Alice often thinks of it as her shield. She uses it now as armour against the knowledge of the inevitable morning, bringing it up to cup her breast. This isn’t the most comfortable bed they’ve shared, or the prettiest room. But it is a night alone together, and for the near future, it will be their last.

She will treasure it for everything it is worth.


End file.
